Deadly Sins
by 7DeadlyKings
Summary: AU. Castiel's a hunter. Dean is a demon. It's the Apocalypse and things never seem to go according to plan. Especially when you're playing cat and mouse with a demon. Dean/Cas. We're earning our M rating today. Just warning you. It's Destiel. You know what that means.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: _This is my first try at slash of any kind so please be gentle with me. I know the story starts out a little light on action but it'll get there. Trust me. :D_

_I've split it up into three parts because it was getting a little long. Now you get three chapters to read instead of one. And I'll be upping the rating from T to M after this chapter just to be safe. You've been warned._

_Hope you enjoy my weird little AU._

Disclaimer:_ I don't own Supernatural and for that I will be eternally sad. But I'm not making any money off this either so please don't sue me._

* * *

**Deadly Sins - Part One  
**

The first time Castiel meets the demon is in the Midwest, just outside Beloit, Wisconsin.

The End of Days is upon them fast and relentless, demons pour out of Hell faster than hunters can throw them back in, and Castiel hasn't slept more than three hours together in weeks. Dark times indeed.

Castiel had intended to spend the rest of week drinking himself into a stupor, his version of mourning for his dearly departed sister Rachel. No matter what anyone says, the blame for her death sits squarely on Castiel's shoulders. He should have seen the trap before it was sprung. Or at the very least he should have gone down with her, another fallen soldier on the battlefield. But he hadn't. He'd gathered up her bloody body alone and taken it into the wilderness to salt and burn.

Gabriel calls while Castiel starts on his bottle of whiskey. He considers not answering at all, keeps on considering it through the first three rings, but he knows Gabriel will just call again. And again. And again.

"Yes?" Castiel rasps into the phone, still cradling his glass of whiskey in his left hand. He takes another lazy sip while he waits for Gabriel to talk.

"Well, aren't we a little ball of sunshine," Gabriel says. "We could use another man out here."

"Rachel is dead," Castiel says in answer.

"A vamp's nest. I heard." The sympathy in Gabriel's voice just makes Castiel feel worse.

Silence stretches over the phone line filling it in with pops and crackles and, from Gabriel's end, the slam of a car door. "So you in or what?" Gabriel asks eventually.

Castiel downs the rest of the whiskey in his glass. He glances at the far wall of his motel room and the ugly dentist's office wallpaper. If he was a different man, he would throw the glass at the wall just to watch it shatter. As it is, he blinks a few times and sets the glass aside in case he's tempted to be a different kind of man. "Where are you?"

* * *

Twenty four hours later, Castiel stands shoulder to shoulder with Gabriel and Michael, all three of them busy loading fresh rounds into shotguns.

"I could be drunk right now," Castiel comments idly as he glances around the clearing. The whatever-they-weres have retreated back into the darkness disappearing almost completely. Like phantoms or trailing smoke on the breeze. "What were those things?"

The trio had been ambushed shortly after Castiel arrived. He hadn't even had time to get his supply bag from the trunk of his car before they were running for their lives. The shotgun in his hands was borrowed from Michael. It sat awkward in Castiel's hands.

Now Gabriel shrugs from beside him. "Fuck if I know, but they're fast."

"I thought you'd done the research," Castiel says, eyes still searching for movement in the trees.

"I did," Gabriel protests. "Campers going missing in the woods. Bodies showing up drained of blood. We thought they were vampires."

"Those weren't vampires," Michael snaps from Castiel's other side. It's the first he's spoken in a while.

"Yeah, I noticed that," Gabriel snaps back with a voice that's gone a little shrill.

Castiel breaks away from the bickering brothers and heads for the trees. "I'll check over here."

Gabriel tries to call him back and gives up halfway through his protest. "Just don't get yourself killed, idiot!" he yells instead. Castiel can hear him grumbling until he gets further into the woods.

Everything is dark and still and whatever it was that attacked them has hidden itself well. He eyes the ground. There are no tracks save those from animals and he has no interest in the habits of raccoons. Castiel pauses beside a tree and gives a little nod. He could wander in the wilderness for hours without finding anything. He doubles back the way he came, skirting the clearing where he can still hear Gabriel and Michael arguing in an undertone, and heads for his car. Something about this doesn't feel right.

He figures out why when he makes it back to the dirt track that passes for a road in these parts. His car is right where he left it. The sleek black side glows in the light of the waning moon but there's an extra shadow beside it that shouldn't be there. Castiel drops low as he comes out of the trees, moving silent as a ghost, shotgun up and ready.

The hunched figure trying to pry open his trunk stops, straightens with a roll of its shoulders, and turns to face him. The face is nondescript and hard to read in the dark but Castiel doesn't miss the smirk curling one corner of the guy's mouth. "Ya caught me, sheriff," says the would-be thief. He puts his hands up lazily.

"Who are you?" Castiel asks, finger itchy on the trigger. It's bad enough the guy was trying to rip him off, but what is he doing out in the middle of nowhere at 1am?

The guy folds his arms, all casualness and charm. He leans back against Castiel's car like he owns it. "You have something we want."

Castiel's eyes narrow. He can barely keep his finger still on the shotgun's trigger. "Who's 'we'?"

The guy chuckles. When his eyes turn full black, it doesn't matter that the sky is ink dark and the moon is a sliver. Castiel can tell the difference. He's seen enough eyes cloud over, showing the demon inside. It's not something you mistake.

When Castiel pulls the trigger, the shotgun blast hits nothing. The demon has already swung around, out of the way. A second later, Castiel flies backwards. He hits a tree and slides down to the ground. The back of his head grates on the bark like sandpaper and he's sure that'll be a bitch in the morning. Assuming he doesn't get killed right now. The irony isn't lost on him. He was all geared up for his own trip to the pearly gates a day ago but now that it's staring him in the face he's rather reluctant to go. Besides, Castiel's not letting this bastard get his hands on anything.

"That ambush should have kept you busy a lot longer. But I had a feeling you wouldn't make this easy," says the demon. He's halfway between Castiel and the car now. He takes a few steps closer, hand up, keeping Castiel pinned to the tree through force of will alone. "I've heard about you." He crouches down and stares into Castiel's face. "You're smaller than I pictured."

"I'm big enough," Castiel says, struggling against the unseen force pressing him back.

"I could snap your neck like a twig."

"Go ahead."

The demon sighs and cocks a head back towards Castiel's car. "There's a sigil on that trunk. I can feel it. You hunters and your little tricks. Open the trunk, get the gun for me, and I won't kill you. Fair deal?"

"Bite me," Castiel says.

The demon's smile is instantaneous. "Don't tempt me." He looks down at the thin stretch of dirt between them and then his eyes trail up Castiel's folded legs to his hips. "Ah. Here's a thought." The demon slinks closer, leaning into Castiel's space, and places a hand on his belt. Castiel tenses. Then there's a tug and Castiel's knife slides free of the leather sheath at his hip. The demon holds it up to the meager light. "How about you give me the gun or I pluck out your eyes like grapes? Hard to hunt when you're Helen Keller." The demon grins, obviously enjoying the mental image that conjures.

Castiel shakes his head. He can hear the sounds of movement in the trees but the demon doesn't seem to notice. Castiel just hopes it's Gabriel and Michael. "No," Castiel says a little too loudly.

"You should take my offer." The demon presses the knife to Castiel's throat, drawing a thin line of hot blood in the flesh. The blood runs down into Castiel's collar, soaking through the worn cotton and making it itch. "Your friends won't get here in time to save you."

So the demon _had_ heard the noise from the trees.

"If you kill me, you'll never get the trunk open," Castiel says. He looks up into the demon's eyes and waits. There's a glimmer of uncertainty in them.

"Son of a bitch," the demon growls. His grip on the knife tightens and he swings, burying the blade in the ground between Castiel's legs. "This isn't over," he adds sounding petulant. Then he tosses his head back and screams. Black smoke billows from his mouth. Gabriel and Michael break from the trees just in time to see it disappear.

"What the hell?" Gabriel says.

Castiel's still bleeding from the neck, but now that he can move the trickle has turned into a hot flood. He claps a hand down over the wound to staunch the flow. Already he's feeling lightheaded. How much blood has he lost?

"I think…" he says and then promptly passes out.

* * *

When Castiel wakes up he's lying on a motel bed staring up at a ceiling covered in mystery stains. He sits up and realizes why he was lying down in the first place.

"Cool it, kid," Gabriel says and Castiel grimaces. He doesn't know why Gabriel insists on calling him 'kid.' They're nearly the same age. "You lost a lot of blood back there. Lay back down before you fall down."

"Where's my car?" Castiel asks addressing the uneven brown splotch directly over his head. It's awkward to talk to Gabriel when he can't sit up and look at him.

"Parking lot."

"_You_ didn't-?" Castiel begins but Gabriel cuts him off.

"Michael drove it back. Don't get your panties in a twist."

Castiel closes his eyes again, tension slowly draining out of his body just like his blood had done a short time ago. He can feel the pull of cloth tape on his neck. There's a gauze pad the size of a diaper taped over the wound on his neck and, when he pokes at it with rough fingers, the gauze is stiff with drying blood.

"What was that back there?" Gabriel asks.

Castiel grumbles. He was hoping to go back to sleep but that's seeming less and less likely so he scoots himself up the bed and props himself against the headboard so he can see Gabriel when he talks to him. He's unsurprised to find Gabriel sitting in the only chair in the room with his feet propped up on the table. The paper stick of a cheap sucker hangs from the corner of his mouth. It jiggles as Gabriel prods the candy with his tongue.

"It was a demon," Castiel answers. Then he looks around as something finally registers. "This isn't my room."

"No, it isn't. Great detective skills there, Columbo." Gabriel shoots him a thumbs up. "So this demon…?"

Castiel stares, slowly growing irritated by the clicking of the sucker against Gabriel's teeth.

Gabriel sighs. "Care to elaborate here? What was the demon doing there? What did it want?"

"The Colt."

Gabriel nearly inhales his sucker. His feet are on the floor so fast that he knocks the table crooked. "Why was he looking for the Colt here? We're in the middle of nowhere."

"Because it was in my trunk." Castiel can't help a little smirk of his own when he sees the look of bug eyed surprise on Gabriel's face. Then he glances around the room again. "Where's your liquor? Do you have whiskey?"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Why didn't you tell us you had the Colt? How long?"

"You didn't need to know." Castiel slides himself off the bed, testing his legs to make sure they'll hold. When he doesn't immediately collapse like a pile of unsteady blocks, he heads for the nearest duffle bag. He's not sure whose it is. Not his. He roots around inside. "Don't you have anything to drink?"

"Get out of there. That's Michael's bag," Gabriel says, rounding the room and nearly falling over the bed in his haste. "Where did you find it?"

"I haven't found anything yet," Castiel mumbles, moving on to the dresser and opening drawers in search of hidden bottles.

Gabriel slams the drawer shut, nearly catching Castiel's fingers. "We don't have any booze. I'm talking about the Colt. Where'd you find it?"

Castiel smiles and shrugs, pressing his lips together. His eyes dart around the room.

He's starting to feel alarmingly lucid and a lot of that feeling consists of pain. Pain from his nearly slit throat. Pain from the hangover drumming on the back of his eyes. Maybe he should have let the demon cut them out. Then he wouldn't be stuck looking at Gabriel's wide eyed surprise either. Castiel turns away.

"What kind of hunter doesn't have whiskey?" he wonders aloud, ignoring Gabriel's repeated questions.


	2. Chapter 2

**Part Two**

Castiel huddles over the bar and stares into the glass in his hand. His smile is loose and crooked tonight, the product of more than enough whiskey. Of course, the whiskey was supposed to drown out the thoughts whipping round his brain like a tornado. It failed there but it does make him much more interested when a pretty brunette sits down a stool away.

Castiel glances up from his rapidly emptying glass and inspects her hair. It's long and smooth, pouring over her shoulder in a cascade. He always did have a thing for brown hair and hers is a pleasant chestnut.

She flags down the bartender to order. There's a familiar twang in her voice that he knows he's heard before. Then again, after crisscrossing the country for two decades he doubts there's an accent around that he hasn't heard.

When the bartender finishes with the brunette's drink, Castiel gestures to his empty glass and waits for his refill.

"Surprised you're still standing," the bartender says, replacing the bottle behind the bar.

"I'm tougher than I seem," Castiel says. He knows what he looks like, thin and wiry, but he's got a collection of scars that would make most people cringe and his arms are deceptively strong. He isn't proud of the number of necks he's wrung with the hands currently holding his whiskey.

The bartender withdraws and Castiel sits in silence like he has been for the past two hours. He glances sideways at the brunette and finds her staring back.

"Care for some company?" she asks with a raise of her eyebrows. She crosses the gap between them unbidden and settles in the spot beside Castiel, hooking one heel on the stool and letting the other leg dangle.

Her legs are long and shapely beneath her short skirt and Castiel takes a moment to consider what they'd look like wrapped around his hips. It's been a while but he's drunk and curious. He takes another sip from his glass, eyes never leaving the little bony ridges of her knees and the curve of her thigh on the stool.

She would have to be an idiot to miss his blatant appraisal of her assets and she doesn't. When he finally raises his eyes to hers, she's smiling. "Maybe somewhere a little more private?"

The corner of her mouth drifts up, transforming her smile into a smirk and Castiel pauses with his glass halfway to his lips. He swallows roughly. Her eyes are chocolate brown but he knows they could be darker. After a moment, he nods. "What did you have in mind?" he says with a voice like gravel, surprising even him, and he finds that there's a little regret there too. He already knows how this is going to end.

The woman sets her beer aside on the polished bar and slides from her stool. When she offers her hand, Castiel takes it without hesitation.

"What's your name?" he asks.

She doesn't say a word, just smiles at him over one shoulder and leads him towards the hall at the back of the place. She yanks him into one of the bathrooms there so fast he doesn't even have time to check the sign. Men's room or women's, it doesn't matter that much. Her hands are on his chest pressing him back against the closed door, pausing only to turn the lock over with a snap. When she kisses him it's slow, tongue flicking against his lower lip.

There's a stunned moment of stillness before he groans. His hands cup her ass, massaging it roughly as he pulls her body flush against his. Not what he planned. Teeth tug at his lower lip and he returns the favor, mouth making a trail from her lips down to her neck. She's warm and pressing against him so hard he's in danger of sinking into the door at his back.

Unbidden, Castiel's dick twitches in interest and then her hands are there too, tugging at his belt, working it free. While she paws at his belt buckle, he swings them around, pressing her back against the door in his place. She tastes like the beer she was drinking but it's not unpleasant. His hands find her neck, tilting her head to the side so he can mouth along the vein. She shivers against him.

"Good," she purrs. Somewhere along the line she worked Castiel's jeans open. Her fingertips tickle the line of his abdomen and then dip lower.

Castiel groans again and bites his lip. Dammit. He licks a line from her collar bone up to her ear while his right hand drops into his pocket. _Fuck_, he grumbles and prays that he'll have a very pissed off woman on his hands in two seconds.

She never even sees the bottle he pulls from his pocket. Castiel clamps his left hand around her throat and her eyes fly open, blurry with desire and sudden fear. Then he douses her with the water from his flask.

The effect is immediate.

"Son of a bitch!" she shrieks, skin sizzling with the sting of holy water. She throws out her hands to claw at him, maybe aiming for the eyes she didn't claim last time. Castiel doesn't give the demon the chance. He gathers up both wrists in one fist and slams them back against the door and out of harm's way. Then he douses the demon with the last of his holy water and starts the exorcism.

"_Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus,_" Castiel begins quickly.

The demon is already recovering from the holy water shower. It flashes black eyes and a blacker smile at him. "Kinky. You do this with all your dates?"

Castiel rushes through the exorcism, trying to ignore the body still pressed against him. It shouldn't feel good. There's a demon inside the warm and willing body beside him. But his erection is having a more difficult time with that idea than the rest of him. At the moment, his dick doesn't care. And the demon keeps talking. Castiel had expected it to send him flying. Maybe kill him outright. He hadn't expected to make it through half the exorcism with his lungs still intact. At least not without a fight.

"How's the neck?" the demon leers. "Guess you recovered." The question makes the final connection in Castiel's foggy brain.

Wisconsin. The demon that nearly slit his throat. He'd suspected.

Castiel glares into the demon's black eyes. "_Ut Ecclesiam tuam secura tibi facias libertate servire, te rogamus, audi nos,_" he says, biting back the words he really wants to say. He has an exorcism to finish.

"So you do remember." The demon leans its head back against the door, exposing its neck and the marks that Castiel has left behind. Then its eyes slide back to Castiel. "I don't suppose you'll just give me the Colt this time." She/it (he's not quite sure what it is inside the meatsuit anyway) sighs. "No, huh? Then we'll have do this the old fashioned way."

The demon pulls from Castiel's grasp. One dainty foot hooks his ankle and a punch to the face drops Castiel to the tile floor. He nearly bites his tongue trying to finish up the exorcism. And he can't help being glad that no one's around to see him laid out on the floor with a demon straddling him. Castiel throws out a fist of his own, catching the demon on the side of the head. It's enough for him to get free, rolling them sideways. He punches the demon in the nose, strangely pleased when blood runs down its borrowed face and paints its lips red. The demon just smiles and throws him backwards into one of the stalls.

Castiel should be trying to get away. He's lost his place in the exorcism. He's out of holy water. He should run. But he throws himself back at the demon, leading with his fists and trying to wrap a hand around its throat. He can't strangle it, not really, but he wants to try anyway.

And that's when the bathroom door flies open.

Castiel is caught like a deer in the headlights. He doesn't have to look down to know what kind of picture this must be for the two surprised men standing in the doorway. The woman on the floor-because the demon still looks like a woman on the outside, that hasn't changed-blood running from her nose and a cut on one cheek. Castiel, hands wrapped around her throat, fly undone. It must look worse than usual because the men in the doorway are still staring. One is dressed in a suit, probably stopped by the bar for a quick drink on the way home from work. The other is larger and wearing a t-shirt with the sleeves rolled up. The name printed across the front matches the name on the building. An employee then. Not another patron.

"Help me!" screams a high pitched voice.

It takes Castiel a moment to figure out that it's coming from the woman beneath him on the floor.

"He's going to kill me!" she screams and it seems to undo whatever spell they've fallen under because suddenly the two men are moving, trying to squeeze through the door at the same time. The man wearing the t-shirt hauls Castiel backwards, dragging him to his feet while the suited man helps up the woman. But Castiel doesn't miss the thin smirk she shoots his way.

That bastard.

"I was so scared," the demon whimpers, sneaking frequent glances Castiel's way. The business man puts a comforting hand on her shoulder and coos like a dove as he hurries her out of the bathroom and on to safety.

Castiel isn't fooled.

He doesn't struggle as he's led from the bathroom but the second he's got the room to move, he whirls on the man at his side. It only takes a few quick punches to stun the guy. He seems terribly surprised when Castiel breaks his nose. Then Castiel is out the door at the back of the bar, bleeding from the knuckles, and quietly seething.

This isn't over.

* * *

Author's Note: _I waffled over upping the rating on this chapter but, in the end, I'm leaving it T for now. Next time though it's definitely going up to M. Final warning. Flee while you still can._

_And I know what you may be thinking: "This isn't slash. Where's the Dean/Cas?" It'll all make sense soon. Promise. Well, assuming you haven't figured it out already. You're smart people. I'm sure you get it._


	3. Chapter 3

Warning: This story officially earns its Rated M and Destiel badges today. You know what that means. Run now. Last chance.

* * *

**Part Three**

"Come out to California," Gabriel says the second Castiel answers the phone.

"What's in California?"

"A vacation. All work and no play make Castiel a very dull boy." Gabriel's words slur together and Castiel knows he's eating candy again. "Besides the girls go crazy for your stubbly I'm-staring-into-your-soul act. It'll be fun."

Castiel sighs. He's already turned Gabriel down three times in the last few months. First for a wendigo hunt, then a haunted house in South Carolina. Castiel doesn't even know what the third one was. He'd hung up on Gabriel as soon as he started to ask. Castiel had hoped that would be the end of it.

Gabriel reads into the pause with annoying accuracy. "Ah," he says. "You still playing with your demon stalker?" Gabriel chuckles. "I'm telling you, thing's probably long gone by now. If it was still around, it would've come after the Colt again. Come out to California. We'll pick up some chicks. Get you a tan… Be like the old days."

Castiel quietly seethes, phone gripped tight in one hand. They've had this conversation before, using different words and once in person, but it doesn't make it any less aggravating. If possible, it makes it more so. Castiel takes another gulp of whiskey before he answers. "I'll consider it," he says.

"No, you won't," Gabriel says.

"No. I won't," Castiel agrees.

"You've totally lost it, you know."

"So you've said."

"Just don't get yourself killed, too. Rachel wouldn't have wanted that," Gabriel says.

"This has nothing to do with Rachel." Because it doesn't. Never did. This is unfinished business, all his own, and Castiel has the feeling that the demon won't give up until it finds him. It'll keep coming, attracted like metal shavings to a magnet. This time he intends to help it.

But he doesn't tell Gabriel that. He says a quiet goodbye and hangs up before Gabriel can make more suggestions or helpful offers.

Castiel slides his phone back into his pocket and glances down the bar. Of the five people in the place just then, none of them seem to be paying him any mind. He gives each a hard stare, waiting for something familiar to surface in them. Nothing. He's been doing this for weeks, scanning every crowd, checking every friendly face. And still nothing. He's starting to lose patience. With himself. With the demon. With the apocalypse still whirling around outside.

The death toll is rising and, if Michael's many stern voiced messages are to be believed, ghost activity is reaching an all time high. He and Gabriel have been chasing Caspers for weeks. Castiel grimaces. Someday he would like to thank the bastards that started the apocalypse. Violently.

Castiel taps his empty glass away from him with two fingers and leans back. The bar is still empty, nothing to keep him occupied and he can drink whiskey just fine on his own. He slides from his stool, boots thumping on the floor a little too loud as he makes his way to the door.

* * *

He's been squatting in a house just outside of town for two weeks trying to make himself obvious and easy to find. Castiel doesn't know what else he can do for the demon besides painting a big red bull's eye on the back of his jacket.

He pulls his car around the side of the house, parking behind a clump of bushes where it won't be seen from the county road out front. Just because he's trying to draw out the demon doesn't mean he should take stupid risks.

He pockets his keys and runs a fond hand down the side of his slumbering car as he passes.

The yard is a patchwork of weeds and dirt stretching out to a field that doesn't grow anything but wild flowers and insects anymore. The old farmhouse sits in the middle of it all, sticking out of the earth like a thumbtack. Nice and private. The house was probably white, or maybe a sweet blue, at one time but now it's just gray and peeling paint chips like flayed skin. Even still, he likes it. Reminds him of home sweet home. Or how he thinks home sweet home would look if he could remember it.

Castiel bounds lightly up the slanted wooden steps of the back porch, moving quick in case one of them decides to give out on him. He doesn't need a broken ankle. Not now. He kicks the back door open, popping it free of its swollen frame like he's done every day for two weeks. Really is starting to feel like home, he muses with a little frown. Then his phone rings in his pocket and his frown deepens. He answers without checking the display.

"Yes?" he says.

"It's Michael."

Castiel pauses, hand on the scarred door as he lingers on the threshold of the abandoned house. He waits for Michael to speak again because he can't think of a single word to fill the silence.

Michael doesn't make him wait long. "I hope you know what you're doing," he says.

"You've spoken with Gabriel," Castiel guesses. Not that there's any doubt there.

Castiel starts moving again, shoving the door closed behind him. The kitchen is dark and the floor is crusted with broken glass and dead leaves. He barely glances up as he passes through, heading into the dining room. He stops in the door way. A sudden chill passes through him.

Michael says something in his ear but all Castiel hears is buzzing.

There's a shadow leaning against the wall of Castiel's almost home. The shape is unfamiliar but he suspects that the demon inside is just what he's been waiting for.

"Thought I'd have to wait all night," says the shadow. The voice is deeper than Castiel expected. He'd been imagining the demon as a woman for the last few months. But this is good, too.

"Later," Castiel says into the phone before hanging up on Michael. He drops the phone into his pocket without looking away from the two sparkling eyes in the dark. "You found me," Castiel says to the demon.

"I'm good like that," the demon says. "So. We gonna play this game again or can I just cut to the chase? Maybe bash your head in, leave you in a puddle of you own blood. Just take the Colt."

"You can try," Castiel says, voice dipping low.

"Bet you still got it in the trunk and everything. Gift wrapped and ready for me." The demon pushes away from the wall, taking a step around the rickety dining table and chair that Castiel has been using every night to sit and read. "You miss me?" the demon says, giving the high backed chair a pat. "I saw you with that blond in Toledo. You looked a little…" He trails off, eyes sliding down to Castiel's belt buckle and then back up to his face. "Limp."

Castiel sidesteps, circling the demon as it tries to move closer. He keeps the table between them. It's a pitiful shield but it'll buy him at least a second or two in case he needs it. "You were there." Castiel nods. He'd felt something. Suspected it.

"Thought the show would be better, to be honest," says the demon. He takes another step forward, passing into a patch of moonlight.

Castiel catches his breath.

The demon's face is almost innocent this time. A dusting of freckles over the nose and pale eyes of a color Castiel can't place in the dim light. The demon smiles with straight, white teeth. It seems charming until his eyebrows drift down and the corner of his mouth quirks up. "Give me the Colt," he says. "I'm getting tired of asking." The shift from boyish to deadly is jarring. Castiel almost misses the sudden flare in the demon's eyes.

It plays out much like Castiel expected when he thought of this moment, running it over and over in his mind, adjusting and shifting it to his design.

The demon flips the table with a startling lack of effort and charges. Castiel dodges sideways, scrambling away. It's less graceful than he would have liked but it suits his purpose. He makes it through the open archway of the dining room, into the living room on the other side. The demon barrels after him, knocking books and chairs flying as he goes. The air goes out of Castiel's lungs when the demon hits him from behind, throwing a shoulder into his back and tipping them both into the decades old coffee table. It bursts in a shower of splinters. When the demon rolls Castiel onto his back, he doesn't resist. He laughs.

"What's so funny? Why are you laughing?" the demon asks, shaking Castiel by the neck before throwing him down into the pile of broken table on the floor.

Castiel wrings out one last chuckle. Then his eyes shift up to the ceiling. The demon follows his gaze, mouth falling open when he sees the devil's trap over his head. Castiel scoots backwards out of the circle and stands up while the demon is distracted.

"No. No, no, no!" the demon growls, throwing himself at the edge of the trap. He bounces back and nearly lands on his ass.

Castiel stands just out of arm's reach, grinning faintly.

"I'm gonna rip your lungs out when I get out of here," the demon snaps.

"I'll keep that in mind," Castiel says. Then he surprises the demon again.

Castiel lowers himself onto the dusty couch against the wall and picks up a book, turning pages until he gets to the one he's marked.

The demon tenses. He waits for the exorcism to begin, eyes darting around the room before he can stop himself. But nothing happens.

Castiel sits and reads by the wan moonlight filtering in the window. A wrinkle forms between his brows and he licks his finger to turn a page. Occasionally he glances up to check that the demon is still in the trap where he left him.

"Hey," the demon finally says. He paces the width of the circle and turns back. "I thought you were exorcising me here." His eyes fall on the book in Castiel's hand.

Castiel takes a breath. "No," he says. "Not right now." He marks his page with the attached satin bookmark and sets the book aside. "I have questions."

"Ask Dear Abby," the demon snaps back.

Castiel's eyes narrow slightly before he speaks again. "What's your name?"

"What?"

"Your name. I want it."

"Why? Wanna complain to customer service?" The demon pauses in his pacing to glare at Castiel.

Castiel stares back.

"So you're not gonna send me back to Hell. You're just gonna make eyes at me all night," the demon says. "This is great."

"What's it like?" Castiel asks. "Hell." He cocks his head to the side just slightly.

"What? Why?" the demon says and then he rears back with a full throated laugh, clapping his hands so loud it echoes in the hollowed out room. His smile is wide when he looks at Castiel again. "You sick son of a bitch! You sold your soul. Didn't you?" He laughs until he doubles over, hands on his knees.

Castiel watches, blue eyes unblinking.

The demon is still chuckling when he asks, "What'd you get for it? Huh?" He rubs his hands together as if he's just spotted a wonderful feast. Castiel doesn't answer, gaze shifting away and then back. "Did they give you the whole ten years or did they stiff you for being a pain in the ass?"

Castiel winces. He tries to school his features, harden them into stone, but the demon has already seen the twitch and latched onto it. He steps up to the very edge of the devil's trap, leaning into the invisible wall. "And you took it. Like a chump."

Castiel's on his feet so fast the demon actually leaps back, eyes going wary again. Castiel snatches up a half empty bottle of whiskey and sloshes some into two glasses. He holds one out to the demon. "Drink?"

The demon eyeballs the glass in his outstretched hand but he takes it when Castiel reaches into the circle.

Castiel downs his whiskey in one go, eyes fastened on the demon over the rim. He pours himself another.

The demon raises the glass to his lips and takes a slow sip. Almost immediately his eyes widen. The glass slips through his fingers, shattering, fanning the wood plank with whiskey and twinkling glass. "You fucker," the demon chokes. When he hits the floor a moment later, his coughs are laced with blood.

Castiel finishes the whiskey in his glass before crouching down, head cocked to the side, watching as the demon writhes.

"I guess I forgot to mention I mixed it with holy water. Not a lot. Don't worry. Just enough." Castiel sidles closer to the edge of the devil's trap. "What's your name?" he asks again.

"Fuck you," the demon says, still coughing. A drop of blood sinks into the creases of his bottom lip, brilliant red even in the dim lighting. Castiel stares at it, at the plump lips he hadn't noticed earlier. He likes those too. It's a bad idea but he slips into the circle anyway and wraps a fist in the demon's shirt. He pulls him up even though the demon is struggling, draws him in so close he can feel his stuttering breaths. Then Castiel laps at the blood on the demon's lip, slowly, then one more time, tasting the coppery blood and the whiskey on him. It tastes good. Better than it should.

"What the fuck?" the demon rages, swinging a fist into Castiel's jaw at the same time as he shoves him back to the edge of the circle.

"You started this." And Castiel is back just as quickly. His fist buries itself in the demon's stomach, knocking the wind out of him, making him gasp even more. They hit the floor together, struggling until the demon is on top of Castiel. He tugs the knife from the sheath at Castiel's hip, pressing it against his throat but Castiel is still smiling.

"You won't kill me," Castiel says. His voice is barely a whisper but his tone is sure.

"Says who?"

"I do," Castiel says. He jerks the demon's knife hand aside, bucking and rolling them again, pinning the demon beneath him with a forearm against his throat. The knife skitters away. "You could have killed me months ago. You think I didn't know you were there?"

The demon's lips are parted, breath rasping in and out. It's the only thing Castiel can see. Those lips. The tip of his pink tongue. The white teeth. Like a magnet. Their breath mingles as Castiel presses his mouth to the demon's. He swipes his tongue along the seam of his lips and the demon groans. Then Castiel's tongue is inside. Warm and wet, he explores the roof of his mouth, running over the edge of his teeth.

Castiel pulls back just a fraction. "What's your name?" he asks again, voice so soft it's barely a sound. Just a puff of warm air against the demon's cheek.

The demon growls, deep in his throat, and then his hands are on Castiel's chest. This part is familiar. He tugs at buttons, fingers sliding lower, gliding over the scars crisscrossing his stomach.

Castiel inhales on a hiss and pushes the hands away with an effort. "No. Tell me your name," he murmurs against the demon's pulse. His palms the demon's body, running over muscle and down abs, thumbing open the button on the demon's jeans. He tugs at the zipper, brushing against the hard flesh beneath. Just barely. Heat radiates off the demon's body like a furnace. "I want your name," Castiel says, nipping sharply at the half exposed collar bone and sliding back up the neck. He nuzzles there, stubble dragging over sensitive skin.

The demon's breath hitches in his throat. "Jesus."

"Blasphemy," Castiel notes quietly as he runs his knuckles over the demon's exposed cock. It twitches against him, already straining upwards. "I would expect nothing less from a demon."

The demon reaches for him, yanking at him and pushing him away at the same time. "Shut up."

"But that's still not your name," Castiel continues before scooting lower to tug the demon's jeans off his hips and away, baring him from the waist down. He throws the pants over his shoulder as the demon tries to sit up. "Whoa!" he says, eyes flying wide.

Castiel shoves him back to the floor. "Stay still," he says, tone gentler than his hands. His lips graze the demon's abs and he bares his teeth in a smile. Gives the flesh beneath him a quick bite, quickly replacing teeth with tongue. He grasps the demon's hips with both hands, fingers sinking in so deep it could leave marks. He's curious to see if it will. So he squeezes tighter until the demon hisses in a breath.

Castiel takes his time, following the ridges of muscle to the thin trail of hair leading downwards, reading the demon's body like a map. When Castiel finally fists the demon's cock, he growls so loud it rumbles through him like thunder. Castiel smiles. He pumps slowly, hand curled loose around the hard flesh, listening to the demon's mumbling encouragement. "Harder," the demon grunts, trying and failing to sit up again. "Harder, dammit."

"Name," Castiel snaps back, giving another leisurely stroke. The tip drips precome and he licks it away, dragging his tongue over the head and smiling at the way the demon twitches and claws at him. The demon's hands tug at his hair sending shivers down his spine. Castiel lowers his mouth again, running his tongue along the underside of the demon's cock from root to tip. He could do just that for hours, listening to the demon's quiet pleas. That alone could satisfy him. But not tonight. Not this time. Castiel has waited too long. He wants more. He slicks the fingers of his other hand and slides them lower, massaging over the soft skin of the demon's balls, drawing another groan from him, and keeps going. The demon seizes up again when Castiel circles his hole with one finger.

"The fuck?" the demon says, struggling in earnest now and finally bucking Castiel off. He pounces on Castiel, knocking him back so hard his head thumps against the floor. "What was that?" the demon demands.

Castiel smiles and reaches up to cup his balls in answer. And he doesn't miss the little murmur of pleasure even as the demon scowls. When he presses a finger to the demon's entrance again there's a shudder but no more protests. His finger slides in with an effort and he pauses before adding another. Moving slowly as the demon's eyes drift closed, giving permission without saying a word. Castiel scissors him open, his own dick throbbing with every movement, every noise that escapes the demon's mouth. Soon. So soon. Patience is almost too much when he's buried knuckle deep in the demon already. But he waits.

When he's loose, holding himself up with shaking arms, Castiel nudges him over, pressing him down onto his forearms, and slotting himself up behind the demon. He's aching hard already, so eager that it's painful to take his time as he replaces gentle fingers with the slicked head of his cock. Moving in, groaning at the heat. It's been a long time and the demon is no less impatient, straining to stay still. His fingers dig into the scarred wood of the floor, moans dribbling from his lips until they're pressed tight together, Castiel rocking into him with shallow thrusts.

The demon exhales and it takes Castiel a long time to realize that it's words he's hearing, not just noise. "Good," the demon breathes. "Good."

In response, Castiel sinks his teeth into the back of the demon's neck drawing another startled cry from him. He can't be gentle any longer. Can't wait. Castiel jerks forward, filling the demon, covering his mouth with one hand when he howls out his surprise. Castiel pants against the back of his neck, rolling his hips again and again, faster until they're both slick with sweat. The demon presses back into him, meeting his frantic pace, head ducking low between his arms until his forehead is resting on the floor. "Cas. Cas," he rasps. The sound of his name on the demon's lips is enough and Castiel is coming, growling like an animal, and pushing the demon down as far as he'll go. So damn good. The demon shudders against him and groans out his own release before they topple sideways, still locked together, sprawled against the edge of the devil's trap, corralled by the imaginary lines.

All at once, Castiel realizes his vulnerable position but he can't bring himself to care. He could have been killed a hundred times over already, in so many different ways. But he's not. His eyes flutter closed. It's the most peaceful he's felt in months. Maybe years. Arm still slung over the demon, hand pressed to the rise and fall of his lungs, the beat of his heart still wrapped in a thin layer of cotton.

They lie like that for a long time.

Castiel wishes he could let himself sleep but, peaceful or not, sense is starting to return. He should untangle himself, move his leg from beneath the demon's, drag his arms free and button himself back up. His shirt is halfway down one shoulder, exposing more scars that he'd rather not see. But he stays still, opening his eyes to glance up at the devil's trap on the ceiling. He's never noticed before how beautiful it looks.

"Dean," the demon says suddenly. The words vibrate beneath Castiel's fingers.

"What?"

"My name. It's Dean," repeats the demon. Dean.

Castiel tries the name out, finds he likes the taste of it. He nods and his eyes start to drift closed again.

There's silence thick as fog and then the demon shifts. Castiel feels rather than sees the sudden movement too fast for him to stop as Dean sits up, pulling Castiel's knife to him from the edge of the circle. When did it get there? Castiel wonders blearily before it's sticking in the plaster of the ceiling and the devil's trap is broken. Then he's crouched, feet awkwardly beneath him, everything surreal when faced with the half naked demon that he'd just been inside of, that he'd been waiting months for. Maybe longer. Dean smiles at him as his fist connects with Castiel's jaw.

* * *

Castiel's only out for a few minutes. He can tell the moment he wakes up, jolted upright by the familiar rumbling of his car as it pulls from the yard and onto the road in a shower of dirt and gravel. By the time Castiel is out of the house, barreling through the front door so hard he knocks it off its old hinges, his car is disappearing down the road with the demon at the wheel. The Colt in the trunk disappearing with it. Castiel stands and watches it until it vanishes from sight.

Despite himself, he smiles.

This game isn't over yet.

* * *

Author's Note: _Sorry this took so long to find its way to you all. I screwed up my hand last week. Always fun. Makes writing/editing a little tricky. But, on the upside, you got a super long and smutty chapter for sticking around.  
_

_Like I said, this was my first stab at anything slashy (and explicit.) I hope I did okay for ya. (: This is a one shot story but I've kinda grown attached to AU Cas and demon!Dean. I hope you did too. Perhaps we'll see more of them someday. Never can tell._

_Hope you liked it. Let me know what you thought if you are so inclined._


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